


'Toe Trombone'

by SuperOreoMan



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Arthur really likes toblerones, Fandot Creativity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 01:24:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4371791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperOreoMan/pseuds/SuperOreoMan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for fandot creativity night. Prompt was "Fight me"<br/>As it turns out, Martin doesn't like toblerones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Toe Trombone'

Some time around midflight found Arthur wandering into the cockpit, loudly munching on a toblerone. He came up just behind Martin and Douglas, an elbow rested on each of their seatbacks while he stood leaning in the middle.

“You want some, Douglas?” Arthur chirped, holding the bar out to him.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Douglas agreed, reaching around to break a piece off.

Arthur swiveled so he was offering the bar to Martin next. “And how ‘bout you, Skip?” he asked cheerfully.

Martin’s nose did a little wrinkle and he shook his head. “No thanks, Arthur.”

“What’s that, Captain—not a fan of toblerones?” Douglas drawled around the lump of chocolate melting in his mouth.

Martin just shrugged. “Not really.” Facing forward as he was, it took a moment before he realized that Arthur was gaping at him with an expression akin to one of horror. He snapped his head up.

“What?” Martin demanded defensively.

“But…but Skip!” Arthur protested. “Toblerones are… _brilliant!_ Have you ever  _tried_ one?”

“Yes, I have,” Martin informed him. “And I don’t like them.”

“You… You don’t….” Arthur’s face looked confounded, like the idea of not liking toblerones just did not compute—and then transformed into an expression that suggested that Martin had done something more similar to killing his own mother than to not liking a chocolate bar. “You, you…don’t like…?”

“No, no I don’t  _like_ ,” Martin retorted, hackles raised and gaze stubbornly facing forward again as he began his derisive rant. “They’re not even  _good_ —they don’t taste like proper chocolate—and they’re oddly shaped, all… _triangly_ , and looking like a _comb_ , and in that…that triangle  _box_ —a-and yes, that might make them easier to pack together—but it’s  _weird_  eating little  _pyramids_  of chocolate. And what kind of name is  _toblerone_  for sweets anyway? It’s like a, a…a… _toe trombone_. Yeah.”

It was quiet for a moment, when he’d finally finished. When even Douglas didn’t respond to taunt him for his overzealous verbal abuse of a bar of chocolate, Martin finally dragged his gaze back to the pair of them.

When he looked up again, Arthur’s face was eerily calm. “ _Fight me,_ ” he uttered in an almost  _dangerous_  tone Martin had definitely never heard from him before. And one he honestly never wanted to hear from him again.

Martin balked, going completely still. “E-e-excuse me?” he asked almost timidly, alarmed. Then Arthur exploded.

“How is that—how can you—HOW can you not like  _toblerones?_  How do—what— _how—!_ ”Arthur exclaimed, before breaking off with a strangled sound, throwing his arms up in the air, and dramatically exiting the cockpit.

“ _Well,_ ” Douglas started after a minute of complete silence, only filled by Arthur’s nattering around in the cabin, alternating between sounding distressed and incensed.  “I think you’ve quite broken him.”


End file.
